


Hope Is a Bright, Beautiful Thing

by Imaginary_Bomb



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars: Princess Leia (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Platonic Female/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 07:51:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7524541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imaginary_Bomb/pseuds/Imaginary_Bomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Rebellion has achieved their first victory in defeating the Death Star. Hasty celebration ensues. But what can be said about our heroes, Luke and Leia, who suffered the worst tragedies on the way to this victory? Can they feel truly victorious in light of their unresolved grief?</p><p>(Chronology: between the end of A New Hope and the events of the Princess Leia comic, including only Leia's speech)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope Is a Bright, Beautiful Thing

**Author's Note:**

> When I re-watched A New Hope, I was unsatisfied with the ending. I felt the whole ceremony thing didn't fit with my image of an underground rebel alliance celebrating their first big win. I was also upset that we weren't shown Luke mourning his aunt and uncle, or Leia mourning Alderaan and her parents. I also didn't feel like we got to see enough of Leia and Luke being friends with each other. The Princess Leia comic helped, but it didn't resolve my chief concerns. And so I decided to take matters into my own hands, as it were.

After their victory over the death Star, the Rebellion returned to their base on Yavin. They could not stay long, now that the Empire knew of their location. But the Empirial army would have to muddle through the aftermath, so the Rebellion took some time to savor their first real victory. Leia gave a speech, followed by a moment of silence to memorialize the sacrifices of the pilots Luke had flown with, as well as the loss of Alderaan. Following that, senior officers broke out, what Luke thought, a suspicious amount of alcohol. The entire Rebel force fell into raucous celebration and never looked back.

Luke had never been around so many people before—and had certainly never participated in such reckless partying. His home village on Tatooine was small and dry. Alcohol was found only in the bigger cities, or by those wealthy enough to afford it. The farmers and craftsmen of the village lived simple, modest lives. His aunt and uncle certainly never would have approved of him joining in the festivities playing out before him. It was part of why Luke had wanted to leave for the Empirial Academy—quiet farm life had never quite satisfied him.

A pang of grief shook him. He’d not had a moment to spare a thought for his uncle and aunt. Everything had happened so quickly—meeting Ben, learning of his lineage, being whisked away to the Rebellion, rescuing the princess, taking on the Death Star. He’d refused Ben at first, but after finding his home burned to ash, he’d demanded to be taken along. He’d been enraged and desperate, and Luke could see now that running off with Ben to join the Rebellion had been a wild grab for vengeance.

Well, he’d gotten his revenge, in a sense, but it rang hollow. He’d finally had the adventure beyond his wildest dreams, but at the cost of everything dear to him. Luke hadn’t wanted to live and die as a farmer—still didn’t—despite his uncle’s many lectures of how it was a safe profession, noble in its necessity. But now, surrounded by the cheers and drunken singing, Luke wished he’d appreciated the dependability and familial comfort of his former life, instead of being so eager to run from it.

Luke knew he’d found a new family of sorts in the members of the Rebellion, with Han and Chewie and Wedge. He just wished he hadn’t had to lose his old one to find it. The saber strapped to his leg, weighted with his father’s legacy, had not felt heavier than in that moment.

He sighed, staring down at his mostly untouched drink. He looked to where Wedge was currently being drunk under the table by Han, and a few younger members swinging from Chewie’s arms. Luke smiled in spite of his melancholy, then sighed again and decided it would be best to find some quiet.

He wandered from the main hall of the bunker, the celebration becoming faint echoes the farther he traveled. Luke had not been given an official tour, and the halls were narrow and winding. Soon, he realized he was completely lost, without even the sounds of the party to give him some idea of his location. Trying not to panic—the bunker wasn’t _that_ big, he couldn’t be lost forever—he made a few more experimental turns before stumbling upon what appeared to be a storeroom.

Luke sagged in relief, then straightened, realizing he was not alone. Sitting on a crate, slumped over a table, was Princess Lei Organa herself. Her braid fell carelessly over her shoulder, face hidden in her crossed arms. She still wore the formal white dress Luke had seen her in when she’d stood before the masses and given her speech. When the celebration had fallen to cheerful chaos, he'd lost track of her. As tough as she’d been during their escape from the Empirial jet, Luke supposed it made sense that a princess wouldn’t join in with the drinking and revelry.

Taking in her slumped form, looking oddly frail, Luke hated to leave her. Still, she clearly sought to be alone and, in spite of fighting at her side, she was his commander, and Luke wasn’t sure it was his place. In his indecision, he backed into a stray box, tripping and cursing, before he could slap a hand over his mouth.

Well. That got him some attention.

Leia lifted her head. Luke was half-worried she’d been crying, but her eyes were dry. Dry and dull, shadows of weariness smudged under them. A few strands of hair had fallen loose from her braid.

“Luke?” she asked.

“Uh, Princess, sorry—”

She raised a hand, cutting him off. “Leia, please.”

“Leia. Um, sorry, I got a bit turned around. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You aren’t,” she said, smiling gently. “Not enjoying the festivities?”

 “Oh, no, it’s—great. Just, you know, a bit loud. Needed a break.”

Leia chuckled, and Luke was glad to see some light return to her eyes. “Yes, I know what you mean.” She gestured for him to join her; Luke grabbed a crate and took a place across the table.

She continued, “I’m sorry we weren’t able to give you a proper celebration. If Alderaan had—” A stricken look crossed her features, with a sharp intake of breath. She closed her eyes, hands curling to fists on the table. Luke resisted the urge to reach out to her.

“Well,” she said carefully, “if things had been different, normally I like to give medals to those who prove their valor in battle.” She looked at him again, the gentle smile returning.

Luke ducked his head, blushing. “Ah, that’s fine, really. I’m just a farm boy from Tatooine. Medals and things aren’t really my… thing.” He coughed. “Although I’m sure Han would have appreciated it.”

Her smile turned wry. “Yes, I’m sure. Speaking of, I noticed your clothing…”

He looked down at his borrowed vest. “Oh, yeah, Han loaned me some stuff. I figured I ought to dress up a little nicer for the whole… service… thing.”

“Mm.” she looked at him a moment more, then turned away, shaking her head as if berating herself. With a deep breath, her shoulders straightened from their wilted slump. The gentle smile faded, brows uncreased, her eyes distant and serene. She reached up to tuck back the loose hair.

“Don’t do that,” Luke pleaded.

She blinked at him, hands falling. “Do what?”

“That… princess thing.”

She gave him a raised eyebrow, lips quirked. “Princess thing?”

“You know, when—when you get all, uh, solemn and poised. I mean, the speech you gave was nice, and I—I get that you have to be a leader but…” He hesitated a moment, then dared to take her hand. “It’s just us, Leia. You don’t have to hide.”

Leia looked at him for a long moment, then her eyes softened, the gentle smile returned. “Oh, Luke.” Her lip trembled, and she turned her head away, but Luke saw the stray tear fall.

“You let me lean on you when Ben died,” he said. “And that meant—so much to me. It was horrible to see him die; I really depended on him. But, honestly, I didn’t know him that well.

“My aunt and uncle, who raised me, they…” He had to stop, take a breath. “They were killed, by Vader’s people. Their house—the only home I ever knew—was burnt to nothing. It was what got me to come with Ben in the first place. I know it doesn’t really… compare to having your entire planet destroyed, but I am… here. For you.”

He could only watch as more of Leia’s tears fell. “Luke, I just can’t believe—I saw it. _I saw it_. And I still can’t believe it’s really gone. All those people, my people…” Her hand tightened around his; she still would not look at him. “My parents would have gladly given their lives for the Rebellion. But the people, they were peaceful, innocent. They _depended_ on me, and yet…” She choked on a sob, hand covering her mouth.

“There was nothing you could have done,” Luke tried to assure her. “You joined the Rebellion for good reasons.”

She shook her head. “All those people, the culture, the history. Alderaan is a loss that will be felt by the entire galaxy. I don’t—” She took a deep, shuddering breath, her words colored by a darker tone. “I don’t know that I will ever forgive them.” She looked, finally, at Luke, and he was stunned by the determined fire in her eyes.

She pulled her hand from his loosened grasp, wiping away her tears. “Alderaan was a terrible loss. But I know my mother and father would be proud of what we accomplished. Now, no other planet will suffer the same horrible fate. We’ve finally had a victory against the Empire. Our fight is not over.” She smiled. “And you’re right, Luke; I do have to be a leader. But it is not something I think of as a burden. My people, the people I lead, give me strength.”

Carefully, she took Luke’s hands in her own. “I am sorry, though, for your loss. I wish I could promise that the pain gets easier to bear.”

Luke allowed his tears to fall, squeezing her hands. “Thank you,” he managed. “I’ll be, well, fine. Somehow. Eventually. You’re right, though, the fight isn’t over. I’m not just fighting the Emperor to free the galaxy; I’m fighting to honor their memory. I’ll carry them with me, always.”

Leia nodded, solemn. “I don’t mind, if you lean on me.”

He smiled. “Only if you promise to lean on me, when you need to.”

She laughed. “Deal.” She stood, pulling him to his feet. “Now, enough sad thoughts. There is a celebration to be had.”

“Ah, yes.” He couldn’t hold back his blush. “Actually, I got a bit, umm, lost. So, if you wouldn’t mind helping me get back…? You did say I could lean on you.”

Leia’s laugh was a bright, beautiful thing. Luke was so gladdened by her lively glow, he didn’t even mind that she was laughing at him.

“Come,” she said. “I’ll show you the way.” She winked at him. “That is what a princess is for, after all.” As they walked, she told him, “Luckily, we won’t be here long enough that you’ll have to learn the layout.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh. “Thank goodness.” The theatrics were enough to pull another laugh from the princess-now-renegade-commander. The delicate sleeves of her dress fluttered, the white like a beacon—strong and unwavering.

Soon, they returned to the main hall. The celebration seemed to not have abated at all, though several Rebellion members were now passed out haphazardly around the room. Luke wasn’t sure how they hadn’t run out of alcohol yet. Suspicious, really.

“ ‘Eyyyy, yer Worshipfulness! Skywalker! Where ya been?”

Luke looked up to see Han waving excitedly at them, face flushed red. Wedge was sprawled on the table, unconscious; Chewie had acquired several fancy braids.

Leia wrinkled her nose. “Your mercenary calls for you.” She patted his shoulder, wearing a sardonic smile. “Best attend to him.”

“Leia,” he said, stopping her as she turned away. He held his hand out. “May the Force be with you.”

She smiled and clasped his hand in a firm shake; he felt a spark, some flux of energy in the meeting of their hands. “May the Force be with you, Luke Skywalker.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am my own beta, so any mistakes are mine (feel free to point them out so I can fix them). If you enjoyed the fic, please leave kudos and/or a comment.


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